


Who ya gonna call?

by darkandstormyslash



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Demon Hunters, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23772841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkandstormyslash/pseuds/darkandstormyslash
Summary: Hargrove and Harrington: demon slayers extraordinaire.An AU running off a season 2 where El didn't close the gate, the Mind Flayer got out, and Hawkins is over-run with nasties. Steve has a bat with nails in it, Billy has an axe, and together they have a strange and awkward relationship based mostly on their mutual ability to kill slavering creatures from the beyond.Tags will be added, depending on what happens as I go along.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 28
Kudos: 42





	1. Damage Control

Sex with Billy Hargrove is never simple at the best of times. Now he comes to think of it, Steve realizes they’ve never actually  _ had _ sex during the best of times. It’s all been in frantic, impassioned moments, flung together against the demons and creatures battering down the door outside. Maybe that’s the only way they can work, a whirlwind of crazy terrified lust in whichever abandoned building or night-time forest they’re meant to be patrolling. 

Tonight, they’re watching over the Byers house. Afterwards, Steve re-bandages the wraps around Billy’s shoulder, while Billy complains about the uncomfortable nature of the Byers sofa. The injury still looks grim, but thankfully it’s only skin deep; three long oozing scratches down Billy’s shoulder. It wasn’t Billy’s fault for not spotting the creature, any more than it was El’s fault for not shutting the door last year, or Will’s fault for letting their location slip to the mindflayer. By now, Steve knows enough not to blame himself for the actions of monsters, but Billy is new to the gig and still learning. 

Steve tidies the sofa cushions and watches as Billy stands half naked by the window, dangling a cigarette outside of it. His eyes rake over the summer-tanned muscle of Billy’s back with the professional interest of someone fairly knowledgeable in first aid. What is it Will calls him now; the team cleric? It’s not the most impressive title. Steve rather prefers the idea of himself as a knight, or a paladin, or one of the many other dumb names the kids keep throwing out as they deal with reality by forcing it into a fiction they understand. He is starting to get good at patching people up.

Billy, by popular consent, is a half-orc barbarian. Steve isn’t sure entirely what that means, but it does seem to fit.

“How’s your shoulder?” He asks, for something to say.

The new bandaging holds as Billy rolls it experimentally. “Not bad. It’s been better. You shouldn’t have been up on that roof.”

“You shouldn’t have jumped off it.”

“What was I meant to do? That claw-fang creature was about six inches away from your face!”

There’s no real answer for that. Even now, Steve can’t quite bring himself to point out that maybe hurtling oneself off the roof of an abandoned chemical plant, wielding an axe and screeching like a maniac, should not be the immediate response to the sight of a demon-creature from another dimension. He doesn’t want to relive the moment where Billy jumped away from him and down towards the deadly creature below. Or the sound Billy made as the claws flashed down and blood flew up. They’re on damage control every night while El battles the mindflayer in her own little private hell. It’s through the gate, and all the legions of the hell-dimension with it, but she’s trying to wear it down. It doesn’t need to be defeated completely, just weak enough that she can push it back through the gate and slam it shut.

Doesn’t look like that will be happening any time soon.

“It’s not your fault, Billy.” He answers gently, “Just be careful. You can’t keep getting yourself injured, we need you.” There’s a dark little blotch on Billy’s lower back, and Steve comes over to give it a poke. “Look at this! How did you even manage to get a bruise here jumping off a roof head first?”

“I didn’t.” Billy answers shortly.

The rest of Billy’s body is red and scraped from the recent battle. This bruise is smaller; almost round and dark purple. It’s not from today. Gently, Steve smooths his hand over it, hating the fact that he doesn’t even have to think very hard to work out what it is. In Billy’s room, there’s a full-length wardrobe. It has a pair of wooden doors with small round handles about half way up. The same height as Billy’s lower back, and the right size and shape to leave a perfectly round bruise if Billy were to be flung against the doors with enough force.

Wrapping tight arms around Billy’s chest, Steve leans his head on the non-bandaged shoulder and gives a sigh, “You need to tell Hopper about this sort of shit.”

“What exactly, Harrington, do you want me to tell our Chief of Police, hmm?” There’s a warning edge in Billy’s voice and Steve knows he can’t push this too much further. “That Neil Hargrove tries to keep his kid in line, like a good upstanding American citizen? Or that I’m too much of a delicate flower to deal with an out-of-shape security guard? He already thinks I’m an untrustworthy shit.”

“He doesn’t think you’re untrustworthy-”

“He wanted you to work with Byers.”

“He  _ knows _ Jonathan.” Damage control, Steve thinks, all they need is enough damage control to keep things going until they can lock the demons away. “All he knows about you is that you drive too fast and once beat me bad enough to need stitches.”

Billy gives a smirk, turning around and bopping Steve on the head with his uninjured arm, “Damn right I did. Don’t you forget it.”

“That isn’t a good thing, Billy.” Steve says as severely as he thinks he can get away with. But the reminder that he once knocked his current lover into semi-consciousness is apparently doing wonders for Billy’s mood. He finishes off the cigarette and flicks it away into Joyce’s pot plants, before sweeping Steve up to kiss cigarette smoke into his mouth.

“All right Harrington, you get the sofa straight, I’ll see if Byers has any tapes I can listen to without wanting to slice my ears off.”

Steve rolls his eyes and collapses onto the sofa. “Did you eat yet?”

“Yeah, had dinner at home.”

It seems strange that Billy does, despite everything, have an enviable home life. Susan feeds him and does his laundry, Neil makes sure he’s up every morning and has pulled enough strings to get him a job at the garage. In contrast, Steve sleeps in as late as he can, lives on leftover pizza and sterile microwave meals, and drags himself to work in a grotty unwashed polo shirt, still smarting and bruised from whatever demon they fought the night before. Thankfully his job at the video rental appears to consist mostly of propping himself up on the counter looking pretty. Steve isn’t sure he could handle much more. 

There’s a plate of some sort of meat-based stew in the fridge so Steve heats it up in the microwave and carries it through to the lounge. Billy turns down the volume on the tape deck and curls up next to him on the sofa, one arm thrown over Steve’s shoulders, the other wrapped around a bottle of cola. It feels almost domestic sitting together in the cozy little house, eating and drinking in a gentle post-coital haze.

Except Steve’s bat with nails in it is next to the coffee table, and Billy’s axe is resting against the television.

They’re both waiting for the monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I couldn't keep away from these boys. Enjoy!


	2. Grease Monkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clandestine blowjob in a garage

Over the last few months, Steve has spent rather a lot of time taking his car to the garage. It’s a cast iron excuse to get into Billy’s workplace during the day, to get information to him where Neil can’t overhear. The only real problem is that unlike Jonathan’s car, which is an elastic band and a prayer away from becoming an exciting piece of modern art by the roadside, the bimmer is pretty well maintained. He’s starting to run out of excuses.

When Billy works, it’s in a pair of blue overalls with a striped headband to keep his hair from falling over his eyes. It shouldn’t look sexual at all, but Steve finds his heart-rate shooting up at the mere smell of petrol. He grins as Billy pops open the hood to take a look, and gets an answering look back that is surprisingly heated. Last night at the Byers house, if he remembers rightly, they talked about fucking in the garage while they were fooling around. He’s pretty sure Billy knows that was just dumb horny talk.

Pretty sure.

Billy straightens up from where he’s been bending over the engine, wiping grease-stained hands on the sides of the overalls and nodding his head. “Okay, Mister Harrington, so see that dent, right there?”

None of the other mechanics are around, which means that Billy is doing this to be a dick. Steve rolls his eyes, “I got a message about tonight.”

“What I think has happened to your car, Mister Harrington, is that someone’s taken a hammer and swung it down under the hood here, to get themselves an excuse to go to the mechanics.” Billy flashes a smug grin at him, “Do you have a younger sister, Mister Harrington, or maybe a skinny little girlfriend? Whoever swung that hammer wasn’t very strong, or very smart, and probably still wears pyjamas with teddy bears on them…”

“Stop dicking around…” Steve hides an answering smile as Billy steps closer, trapping him against the wall where the smell of petrol and rubber is not quite masked by Billy’s cologne. “And shut up about the goddam pyjamas, they were a Christmas present from my mom, okay? I didn’t choose them.”

Billy’s hands land against the wall on either side of his head, and Steve feels his heart thump loud. They’re alone in the garage, but the rest of the men are working right outside. There’s no reason they couldn’t be interrupted at any moment. Billy leans in close, his mouth only a few inches away from Steve’s, and murmurs, “What I want to know, Mister Harrington, is how you’re gonna pay for this repair. It’s not a cheap one…”

“Hopper wants us down at the old steel works tonight.” Steve croaks desperately, “Some of Jonathan’s rats exploded.”

He can see the disappointed look in Billy’s eyes, and a very noticeable sneer on his face as he pushes himself away. “Jonathan’s  _ rats _ ?”

“Yeah…” 

“You really know how to get in the mood, Harrington.”

From outside, Steve can hear the murmur of voices, cut through with the occasional laugh. There’s no way it would be safe for them to try anything here, but he can see the curve of a bump in Billy’s overalls and he’s not far from having an answering one in his jeans. It’s not like he doesn’t  _ want _ this to happen, he’d just rather not lose Billy his job. “Do you have a store room or something? Where we won’t be disturbed?”

“Look at this…” Billy crouches down behind the car, poking at something on the door. Curious, Steve shuffles down next to him to see, realizing his mistake the moment Billy reaches forward to grab at his shirt and pull him close. “See this, Harrington? This is what it looks like when you get a guy all riled up and then try to talk your way out of it with exploding rats.”

“I didn’t get you riled up, I just walked into your garage.” Steve gives a bitten off yelp as the grease-stained hands brush perilously close to his crotch, “You’re gonna leave a mark!”

In the gloom, Billy smiles like a shark. “Well in that case, you’d better get it out yourself, yeah?”

“You’re gonna suck my dick?” Steve breathes, “Right here? In the fucking garage?”

“Right here in the fucking garage.” Billy answers, voice low and soft. “Right now.”

The buttons on his jeans seem ridiculously difficult as Steve fumbles at them quick as he can. Billy scrubs his hands against his overalls, trying to get the oil stains off. Maybe it’s the fumes, Steve wonders hazily, maybe the fumes are getting to both of them and making them do dumb risky shit like this in the middle of the day.

Billy grabs at a breeze-block and tugs it close, sitting Steve on top of it so he can easily access his cock. Until Billy, Steve would always have thought of a blowjob as a fairly submissive act, the kind of service provided by a girl trying to show off without losing her virginity. He certainly never got one from Nancy, but in his imagination it always involved soft pouting lips, an obedient bent head, and the flickering of eyelashes against a cheek while Steve watched indulgently from above.

Blowjobs are  _ not _ like that with Billy. Billy grabs, attacks, and owns Steve’s cock like he holds a grudge against it. Steve clings onto the breeze-block with one hand and bites down on the fleshy part of his thumb with the other. He knows they can’t make any noise, but it’s fucking difficult with Billy’s mouth wrapping wet heat around him and sucking like an industrial cleaner. It’s made even harder when Billy grabs the hand on the breeze-block and shoves it against the bulge in his overalls.

There’s not much Steve can do except hang onto it and try not to scream too loud as he shoots off down Billy’s throat.

A particularly loud laugh from outside bursts straight through his dizzy haze, bringing him back unpleasantly to earth. Sure, the two of them are crouched behind the car, but it’ll still be obvious to anyone walking in that they’re up to something fairly unsavory. Billy falls back against the car door, panting as he flicks open the buttons on his overalls, eyes fixed on Steve. “Alright Harrington, time to pay the bills.”

“If anyone comes in…”

“You’ll be up there in the Soccer Mom hall of fame. Stop being a wuss and jerk me off.”

The cock feels smooth and hot between his hands. Now that he’s cum, the thought of discovery no longer seems hot or devilishly naughty, just incredibly stupid. It won’t be giggles and sideways glances, it’ll be Billy losing his job, Neil chewing him out for it, and both of them having to explain to Hopper exactly why their cover has been blown. And that’s the best case scenario. The worst case one involves Neil and a tire iron.

Leaning forward, Steve spits down at Billy’s cock, increasing the speed with the slick wetness and murmuring into Billy’s ear, “Do you get all your clients to pay you like this?”

Billy gives a soft breathy laugh, “Jealous?”

“Just wondered how far this went…” Steve thinks quickly, trying to work out what he can say to get Billy off faster, “Whether it works both ways.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah … you know … whether someone has to get their ass out when this place fails the health and safety inspections…” he doesn’t even have to look at Billy’s face to see how that one landed, not when Billy’s hips are bouncing erratically up towards his hand. “Or when the guy from the union comes to see why nobody’s paying dues. Which cocky, slutty, little grease monkey is it that gets bent over the boot of a car with his overalls round his ankles and - shit!”

Billy cums in a rush. With the sudden terrifying threat of leaving cum stains over either him or the car Steve doesn’t even think. Bending down he catches it all in his mouth, choking and gasping as he tries to swallow it down without retching or making any other noise. They can’t make a sound, that is suddenly imperative. 

He hears Billy’s head land with a thunk against the car door, and then Billy’s hand reaches up to run gently through his hair. “Didn’t know you swallowed, Harrington.”

“I don’t.” Steve mutters, trying to do his jeans up in a crumpled half-crouch behind the car. “You know I don’t.”

“Yeah, but it was pretty funny to watch.”

“Ha ha…” Steve snaps with all the bitterness he can muster, which fades instantly as Billy hauls them both up and presses his mouth to Steve’s. Now he can taste both of them, salty and hot, as Billy’s tongue mingles with his. The door, the garage, and everything beyond it up to and including the mindflayer suddenly become very unimportant. Fuck the world for caring, and fuck the other world for getting in the way.

There are tears in his eyes as they pull apart, and Billy reaches up a thumb to touch them, suddenly looking horrified, “Shit Harrington, I thought - I mean you said last night you wanted to - ”

“Shut up.” Steve kisses him again, then quickly wipes the tears away, feeling weak and stupid. Maybe this is how Billy feels when he’s caught out crying. It’s not very pleasant. “I’m just tired of it, that’s all. The constant stress all the fucking time. We’re always in danger, or about to be attacked by something big and terrifying with a dumb name. And now Byers has exploding rats so we can’t spend the evening drinking, or fucking, or at the cinema watching a movie. Instead we have to be standing around a creepy building waiting for something to jump out at us. No normal stuff. We don’t get that anymore.”

Gently, Billy’s thumb catches the last of the tears. “Won’t be forever, Harrington.”

“Fucking feels like it.”

“It won’t be. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might not show but I am actually surviving this weeks isolation way better than last week.


	3. Ace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and Steve meet some unexpected and unwelcome intruders.  
> One beatdown, no sex, dumb cameo, one slur.

By the time Steve gets away from work and down to the abandoned steelworks, the others are already there. Hopper looks grim, Jonathan resigned, and Billy angry, none of which bode well. It’s going to be a fun evening.

Hopper starts talking the second Steve steps out of the car, “Okay, now we’re all _here_ Byers and I are going in. You two patrol the perimeter. There shouldn’t be any trouble, but I checked the records and they occasionally get kids driving over to drink and get up to mischief. Not always Hawkins kids either.” He adds with a glance at Jonathan, who looks suitably chastened, and Billy who does not. “We need to find out what’s inside, assess how dangerous it is, then get the hell out before it gets too dark or too dangerous. No heroics.”

Neither of the other two respond, so Steve feels he has to, “Okay. Uh, Roger that.” He throws a mock salute to lighten the mood, but if anything it seems to make Hoppers face even more grim. They aren’t soldiers, or even semi-trained policemen, they’re just a bunch of teenagers. He knows Hopper hates any reminders of that, particularly when the work gets dangerous. Grabbing the bat from the boot of his car, Steve gives a more serious nod and heads off along the surrounding fence-line, hoping Billy follows him.

Sure enough, hasty footprints shuffle after him, and Billy’s hand closes around his upper arm, “What the hell kept you?”

“Work.”

“Give fuckface a slap if he keeps you working late again. Don’t leave me out here with an angry trooper and the school weirdo.”

“We’re not at school anymore.” Steve points out.

“Yeah, well he’s still weird.”

Round the back of the steelworks is a smaller outhouse, windows caved in and covered with graffiti. Billy hears the noise before Steve does, raising the arm that isn’t carrying his axe and waving it frantically at the direction of the outhouse. When he pauses, Steve can hear it too; the clink of bottles, a shuffle of feet and, drifting gently on the breeze, the smell of weed.

Someone’s in there.

This is the kind of situation that works better with Hopper, Steve thinks as they slowly tiptoe closer. Hopper can throw his weight around in his state trooper uniform and send any unwanted intruders packing, especially if they’re involved in underage drinking and a few soft drugs. Him and Billy are just two more kids, potential rivals usually, and if Billy’s spoiling for a fight this has the potential to get ugly very fast. 

“Maybe we should…” he starts, but it’s too late. A head pops through the window of the outhouse and does a double-take, staring at them in surprise. A moment later a second one joins it.

There only seem to be two guys there, not that much older than him and Billy. One has dark curly hair and is holding a beer bottle, the other blond spiky hair and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. They both look surprised by the interruption. Steve takes a step forward before Billy can do anything stupid, holding the bat with nails in it behind his back, “Hey guys, you might wanna scoot. There’s a police car just drove round the front.”

They glance at each other, and dark-hair gives a shrug. “Okay. Thanks man.”

Steve feels Billy twitching from next to him and tries again desperately. “So, you know, might be worth fucking off?”

Blondie’s lips turn up into a sneer and Steve has a sudden sinking feeling, “Well how about you two faggots fuck off, and let us take care of ourselves.”

Things move very quickly after that. The axe embeds itself into the wood of the outhouse about 4 mm away from Blondie’s head, which results in him vaulting out of the window and swinging directly at Billy’s face. Steve jumps back helplessly as they scuffle in the dirt together, he wants to stop it but he can’t think of how without getting in the way of Billy’s fists. He glances quickly at dark-hair, expecting to share a mutual look about the idiocy of their respective friends, and instead almost has a heart attack as he realizes that the boy is holding a gun. A gun pointed straight at him.

“Drop the bat!” the guy yells. He’s no Nancy Wheeler, the barrel is waving all over the place, but Steve isn’t about to risk it. He has a sudden vicious hope that whatever is inside the steelworks is both dangerous and hungry. At least Billy seems to be having slightly more luck with his fight, yelling in Blondie’s face as he cracks a fist into his cheek. Steve gives a wince, he’s been on the receiving end of that and it’s not a fun experience.

“Dude, the cops are _right over there_.” He snaps, giving a growl as dark-hair kicks the bat with nails in it. “This is fucking stupid.”

“Why do you even have this bat?”

“We’re hunting possums.” Steve tries desperately.

There’s a yelp and a thud from Billy. Steve flinches, glaring at Blondie who drops the rock he’s just slammed into Billy’s head and nods at his companion. “Get the rope from inside, tie them to the tree. I wanna break this asshole’s face.”

The gun is passed to Blondie, who seems a lot more confident with it. Slowly, Steve backs away until he’s up against a tree, biting his back teeth together hard as he hears Billy groan. He stares down the gun barrel as dark-hair drags Billy over and fairly expertly ties them back to back around the trunk. 

“You don’t have to do this, man.” Steve tries.

Blondie’s mouth turns up into a sneer, “Your friend just swung an axe at me. I think he could do with a lesson.” He hands the gun back to dark-hair who holds it reasonably steady a few inches away from Steve’s face. “He moves, you shoot him. I’m gonna deal with this little shit.”

Steve can’t see, because Billy is around the other side of the tree, but he can certainly hear as Bondie gets to work. Somehow listening to it happening to Billy is even worse than experiencing it himself. Steve keeps his eyes fixed on the dark lengthening shadow of the steelworks as he hears the grunts and thuds from behind him, straining for any sign or sight of Hopper. When Blondie walks back around the tree, shaking out his knuckles, it’s all Steve can do to stop himself spitting in the guy’s face.

“You done, Ace?” asks dark-hair.

Blondie’s eyes fix on Steve, “Yeah, I’m done.” he answers quietly. “I see you two around here again and I’ll maim one or both of you, understood?”

“Understood.” Steve answers quickly. There’s a mumbled “Understood” from the other side of the tree, and Steve isn’t sure whether to be relieved or worried that Billy’s actually behaving for once. As soon as the unwelcome visitors are gone, Steve frantically tugs at the ropes, swearing as they refuse to give.

“Billy? You okay there, man?” He whispers.

There’s a shuffling from the other side of the tree and then Billy hisses, “I’m gonna _fucking_ kill him.”

Steve feels the relief wash over him. Billy can at least talk, and that’s something, “Fuck man, that was the last thing we needed. As if demons weren’t bad enough.”

“Fucking kill him.” Billy snaps viciously, and then, “Ow.”

“You weren’t paying attention.” Steve mutters back, tugging fruitlessly at the ropes again. “You always do that, you get so caught up with punching people you forget to watch what they’re actually doing.”

“Oh yeah? And what were _you_ actually doing, Harrington?”

“I was trying to get them away from what might be a human-eating demon-creature! You swung an axe at them!”

There’s a thump as Billy kicks back at the tree, “Should’ve swung it at his head.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” Steve answers darkly.

They stand in silence, watching the world darken into dusk. Steve keeps his eye on the steelworks, carefully ignoring the faint sniffling noise from the other side of the tree until Billy pulls himself together enough to croak, “Steve … what if there _are_ human-eating demon-creatures in there?”

“Then we’ll deal with them.” Steve shrugs. “Hopper will have a plan, El will have her powers, we’ll set fire to the fuckers if we have to.”

“Steve … we’re tied to a tree.”

Oh. In the panic about everything else, that aspect of things hadn’t really occurred to him. Steve is suddenly hyper-aware of how vulnerable they are out here with no weapons, physically restrained in place. A demodog could come right up to them and eat them down to the bones with nothing to stop it. 

There’s a shuffling sound from the woods and Steve almost has a heart attack, but thankfully all that emerges is Jonathan, looking confused and faintly alarmed to see them. He’s carrying nothing but a torch, and Steve is suddenly deeply glad that asshole and his friend have already left. He doesn’t think he could stand to watch Jonathan get attacked as well.

“Hey… any chance of a hand?” Steve tries for a grin.

“What- what happened?” Jonathan rushes forward, eyes widening as he catches sight of Billy, “Jesus…”

“Yeah, laugh it up Byers.” Billy growls.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve can see Jonathan’s face. He doesn’t look like he’s about to laugh. Jonathan tugs a knife out of his pocket and hacks away at the ropes, moving to catch Billy as he staggers forward. Given Billy has a good few pounds on him, it almost sends both of them to the ground.

Steve quickly comes round to help, trying not to look at the bloodied mess that is Billy’s face. “There were some guys.” He explains quickly. No need to admit it was only two. “They got the jump on us. They had a gun.”

“Shit.” Jonathan’s eyes are full of concern, and Steve can’t help feel a strange little prickle of jealousy. Jonathan never looked at _him_ like that, not even when he ended up in hospital after that night at the Byers house. Both of them, he realises with a sudden feeling of unease, have had the beatdown on him, at some point or another. Maybe they have more in common than Billy likes to think.

Billy’s hand lands gently palm first in Jonathan’s face. “Not a word, Byers, not a fucking word. I’m telling Hopper I fell over a tree branch and cracked my face on a rock. If you want both your arms working tomorrow, you’ll tell him the same.”

“He should know there are guys around here…” Jonathan tries, but Steve knows from experience that Billy will have his way. He always does. It’s the strange mix of feelings Billy inspires; that isn’t quite horror and isn’t quite pity and isn’t quite edgy desire. Jonathan hopefully doesn’t daydream about fucking the guy, but Steve can tell he’s feeling at least some of it.

“They said they weren’t coming back.” He lies smoothly. “There’s no need to tell Hopper if we won’t see any more of them.”

Billy reaches up one grazed and bloodied hand and pets at his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ace Merrill and Eyeball Chambers everyone! Next chapter will be better.
> 
> I just wanted Ace beating Billy, sorry.


	4. War Wounds

It’s not that Billy’s vain, it’s just that hey, he’s got a good body and not enough Catholic guilt to bother denying it. The abs look good, the skin is tanned and toned, the ass rounds out the jeans. Why lie to himself about that? It’s not often he finds himself looking into the mirror and admitting that, right now, he looks like a fucking disaster.

This is one of those times.

Slowly, Billy’s hands gently trace over his skin, almost amazed at the damage he sees reflected back at him in the grime-streaked mirror in Hopper’s cabin. It is, he supposes, an occupational hazard of fighting monsters combined with a few days of chronic bad luck. The blotch on his shoulder is from the whatever-it-is in the abandoned steel-works, the red line down his stomach from a near-miss when Jonathan’s newspaper boss went unaccountably mad and tried to attack them. His hand moves around his belly to the graze near his hip which marks an awkward stumble into half a car at the garage, and then up to the other shoulder, which finishes off with a common-or-garden Neil.

Then there’s his face.

Gash across his cheek from the shadow monster slamming him into the wall, bruising above it (Neil again), and a small circle just under his jaw which is a love-bite courtesy of Steve Harrington. Billy is quite proud of that one, hidden in plain sight among the injuries. His fingers gently poke at it, closing his eyes at the slight stinging sensation. Deep in his mind, he conjures an image of the evil little smirk Steve gets on his face when he stops his hand _just_ as Billy’s about to cum. His other hand massages the graze on his hip and he grins as he hears the door creak open behind him. “Like what you see, Harrington?” 

“Um… it’s certainly a picture.” Says an awkward Jonathan Byers.

Eyes snapping open, Billy whirls around, swearing as he sees Jonathan staggering under the weight of several planks of wood. He scoots over to help, flushing awkwardly, “Well I didn’t know it was you Byers, did I?”

“So you were ... _caressing_ yourself for Steve?”

“Yeah. You need me to spell it out Byers? I mean are you blind or-” it’s hard to be threatening while covered in bruises and holding a load of wood but Billy tries, sneering into Jonathan’s face until Jonathan drops his gaze.

“No, I mean … I understand.”

“Yeah I bet you do.”

They both wrangle the wood into the corner and drop it down. Jonathan wipes his forehead as he stands up, panting a little. Not that he’d ever have the hots for a nerdy little twerp, but Billy can’t help but give him a quick glance. There’s a fairly capable body hidden under the baggy shirt and functional jeans. Bit of a haircut and a decent outfit and Byers might smarten up quite nicely. 

Jonathan’s eyes are also flickering over him. Billy draws himself up, smirk on his face, about to break out a _sorry Byers I know it must be irresistible but I’m taken_ and gets the shock of his life as cool fingers reach out and press gently and unnervingly accurately against the Neil-bruises on his shoulder.

“That wasn’t a demon.” Jonathan murmurs.

Any lustful stirrings Billy might have been feeling instantly sour. With a scowl he reaches up a fist and knocks Jonathan’s hand off his skin. “No, that was your boss just before he tried to brain you with a chair.”

“No it wasn’t.”

Billy’s scowl deepens. His fist knocks meaningfully against Jonathan’s shoulder. “Is there a point to this, Byers?”

Jonathan’s gaze slides up to meet his, and for some unaccountable reason Billy finds himself taking a step backwards. There’s something in Jonathan’s eyes, something deep and dark and unexpected. Some guys, Billy realizes belatedly, are quiet not because they have nothing to say, but because they have something to hide. 

“Tell Hopper.” Jonathan says, just as quiet.

“Fuck off…” it comes out a little more desperate and less angry than Billy would’ve liked. He tries to make up for it by swinging a fist, but somehow all he feels like doing is gently knocking the back of his hand against Jonathan’s jaw. “What can Hopper do?”

“He can know, at least.”

“He’ll think I’m weak.”

Jonathan shakes his head, “That’s what you think, not what he’ll think.”

Billy gets a bit more force behind his hand this time and the blow clocks Jonathan’s face sideways. He can’t help but feel a sting of shame as Jonathan drops his gaze and turns away. “It won’t get better.”

“Just because you couldn’t handle it, Byers, doesn’t mean I can’t.”

Jonathan’s scowls, and Billy feels a sharp sense of satisfaction that he’s managed to rile the boy up. “Think what you like, Hargrove, but if I were you, I’d make sure Hopper knows about it before the old man comes at you with a length of metal piping, rather than after. “

He looks ready to throw a punch, and Billy is more than ready to swing back. It’s probably for the best that Steve chooses that moment to burst in, carrying a large sack of something powdery and chemical which he promptly drops all over the floor. Between coughing, swearing, sweeping, and generally trying to get the mess sorted, the antagonism between them is forgotten. By the time they finish the room is halfway clean, and Billy’s skin is red and irritated from sweat and the dust.

“Shit…” Steve rubs at the back of his hand, staring in horror at the shiny patch left behind, “Is this stuff … corrosive?”

They’re out of the cabin in an instant, Steve panicking and Billy yelling. Jonathan finds a length of hose under a tarpaulin and strips off his shirt, the three of them taking turns spraying each other until the red itchiness dies a little. Billy wraps his arms around himself, hair wet and lank against his face. “You goddam idiot Harrington!”

“I didn’t mean to drop it, it was heavy! Oh god, what if we get cancer or some shit?”

His voice raises hysterically high and Jonathan aims the hose at his face, momentarily silencing him, “Calm down. We’ve washed most of it off.”

“Easy for you to say, you had long sleeves on.” Billy mutters, snatching the hose and aiming it over his chest. Jonathan is right though, the irritation is dying down now the dust is no longer on their skin. “What if it was like … demon eggs or some shit.”

“Demon _eggs_!” Steve yelps.

“It’s the raw material they use to make fertilizer, that’s all.”

“You don’t know that,” Billy snaps back, “What if it was that dry flaky stuff from the upside-down? What if it was demon sperm?”

“ _Demon sperm!”_

Jonathan tries to grab the hose back, Billy hangs onto it, and they both end up slipping onto the muddy forest floor. Steve watches them blearily, then grabs the hose and turns it on both of them until they break apart. “What the hell is the matter with you two?”

“What’s the matter with _you_ Harrington?” Billy snaps back automatically as he scrambles up, but he reaches down to help Jonathan stand. “We’re just having a friendly struggle in the mud surrounded by demon sperm. Nothing wrong with that.”

“It’s fertilizer, for fucks sake…” Jonathan groans, but there’s a smile playing across his lips. Nevertheless, Billy doesn’t think it’s an accident that his hand lands, quite heavily, on the shoulder that Neil marked up, “That’s the last of the stuff in, anyway. I’m heading home to dry off.” 

Billy squelches back to Steve’s car, grinning as Steve insists on putting a bag down on the seat before they sit, “I swear you are such a prissy housewife, Harrington.”

“You’ll get it muddy.”

“Bring it to the garage, I’ll clean it for you.”

“What is it with you and Jonathan?”

With a groan, Billy rolls his eyes, “Get the hell off my back.”

“I mean it.” Steve starts the ignition, determinedly not meeting Billy’s eyes as he reverses the car away from Hopper’s cabin, waving at Jonathan as he heads in the opposite direction. “You’ve been going for him any chance you get. Ever since that night we got jumped and tied to a tree.”

“Drop it.” Billy mutters, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. 

“I can’t _drop it_. It’s us against every single mad demon creature trying to take over Hawkins. Not you and Byers needling each other to death.”

A small creased frown appears in Billy’s forehead, “Wait … you think _he’s_ needling _me_?”

“Well yeah. If there’s a chance to wind you up, he’ll take it.”

That puts the events of the afternoon in a slightly different light. Billy falls silent, trying to work it through in his head. Slowly, he starts with. “He thinks I’m weak.”

“What?”

“He _knows_ …” Billy feels a leaden sort of feeling drop into his stomach. “He saw what that dumbfuck did to me in the forest, he knows about … about some of the other shit I get. He thinks I’m weak and he’s trying to get me to goddam admit it.”

Steve sighs, “Okay, I’m pretty sure that’s not the reason. Byers isn’t like that. He’s weird, yeah, but not vicious.”

Billy remembers the look he saw in Jonathan’s eyes. Not vicious maybe, but there’s definitely something there. Byers might not be a threat, but he’s not a pushover either. He makes Billy feel uncomfortable, in a way he can’t quite articulate, because it’s like looking at himself through a warped and twisted mirror.

He wonders if maybe Jonathan Byers feels the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am getting way too obsessed with the Byers kid.


End file.
